The vibrations he felt in his sleep had nothing to do with his soul easing out of his body as he dreamily thought; they came solely from the weight and motion of the freight train rolling north to deliver fuel, furniture and other items having no relevance to Elijah’s life or his dreaming. On the metal rail his arm itched like a nose with a feeling that something bad was about to happen. In another life the sound of the train would have been reminiscent of certain songs by Muddy Waters or even Bruce Springsteen but not in this one. In this life the sound stabbed viciously against the night exactly like a human being demonstrating flawless disrespect for the life of another human being.
--from short story ELIJAH’S SKIN
Tags: metaphysical short-story parables philosophical-inquiry short-fiction
Short fiction seems more targeted - hand grenades of ideas, if you will. When they work, they hit, they explode, and you never forget them. Long fiction feels more like atmosphere: it's a lot smokier and less defined.
Paolo BacigalupiTags: short-stories short-story short-fiction long-fiction
Coming home seemed to have started the healing process. No longer vivid and garish, the memories seemed to be covered in gossemer, fading behind a curtain of time and forgiveness.
Karen FowlerTags: forgiveness mothers-and-daughters novella short-fiction
Short first pregnancies do not occasion criticism in our valley, for it is widely known that the good Lord often makes first pregnancies mercifully brief as His reward to the girl for having preserved her chastity until marriage. Subsequent pregnancies, however, usually run their full terms, which only makes sense, as the very fact that they are not first pregnancies means that the mother was not chaste at the moment of conception.
TrevanianTags: short-fiction the-apple-tree
What's your dad do? I said. Designs new and better wings for new and better sing nuts, he said proudly. It sounded like he was repeating something a sarcastic adult had said.
Judy BudnitzTags: short-fiction saving-face
What about your mum? She got taken away. Mine too, I said. There was nothing special about that. It happened all the time.
Judy BudnitzTags: short-fiction saving-face
Couldn't help it, he insisted. My dad would bell me to draw a flower and it would turn into a Venus flytrap chewing on a hand.
Judy BudnitzTags: short-fiction saving-face
You have to stop this. I don't want to lose you too. If you have to make a revolution, Make a small revolution.
Judy BudnitzTags: short-fiction saving-face
You know Dahmer was a cannibal. You think he was a zombie?”
Tom smirked. “I’m no expert, but not all cannibals are zombies.
Tags: humor zombie series short-fiction
The short story, I should point out, is perforce a labor of love in today's literary world; there's precious little economic incentive to write one...
Lawrence BlockTags: writing writers short-stories short-story short-fiction
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